


How in the Hell Do You Milk An Almond?

by askboo



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes is a vegan, But he'll do his best, Food Issues, M/M, Steve Rogers doesn't know how to cook fancy, also: Bucky Barnes has a V-Neck Shirt Fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/askboo/pseuds/askboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wants to give Bucky the first date he deserves - even if it means figuring how to cook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How in the Hell Do You Milk An Almond?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends!
> 
> I will never conceive of anything cuter than the thought of Steve and Bucky's first date, in whatever context.
> 
> My head canon has always been that Bucky would have pretty bad food sensitivities after the way Hydra treated him, so this is how Steve makes him a delicious meal on their first date.

When Bucky comes to hang out these days, he starts sleeping over at Steve’s apartment more and more. He stays later every night, hesitant to leave, and then too sleepy to make the trip all the way back to the Tower. Steve always gives him the bed. He comes out of Steve’s room in the morning in his sweatpants and his hair half fallen out of the ponytail, eyes puffy and blue blue blue. Steve wants to ask him to stop staying over, because every morning he feels himself falling more in love. Steve never asks him to stop staying over, because every morning he feels himself falling more in love. It’s a problem.

“I too have had this problem,” Natasha says wisely, handing Steve his coffee cup as she joins him on a café patio one following afternoon. “I solved the problem by seducing him, which was very effective.”

Steve looks at Natasha, at her pretty red curls, and her long legs in her high waisted shorts, crossed elegantly under the table. She’s always so beautiful, and seducing Bucky had probably involved a lot of leather outfits and sparring besides. Steve doesn’t have any of that going for him. He has a long, complicated friendship that’s too precious to risk. It’s not as good an arsenal. 

“Could’ve been great, but you just never know when a cryofreezer will get in the way of a good relationship,” Natasha murmurs to herself. 

“Nat,” Steve says disapprovingly, but he’s paying attention again, which is what she wanted.

She grins at him, sipping on her iced latte. “I’m just saying I know how easy it is to fall in love with him,” she says. 

Steve folds his arms on the glass table, feeling suddenly and awfully guilty. Seeking advice from Nat had become so natural that he hadn’t stopped to think how disrespectful it was in this case. He was asking advice about loving someone she had loved, someone who had been taken from her. Someone she might be thinking she had finally gotten back, the same way Steve had.

“Do you still love him?” he asks, reaching to touch her arm.

She looks surprised, then touched, the same way she always does when Steve reads her in a way she doesn’t expect, when he reaches out to her. She shifts her arm so she can take his hand. “Yes,” she says. “I always will. But it wasn’t right for us, then or now. I love someone else now, and he loves you.”

A heavy heat blows through Steve, shock and embarrassment and a whole lot of hope. “That’s silly,” he says, rubbing his face with his free hand, like he can rub out the redness. “That’s--it’s ridiculous enough that I’ve fallen in love with him after twenty years, for it to be mutual would be beyond reason.”

Natasha laughs hard. She gets up, comes around the table and slides into his lap. She hugs him so tight. “I love you so much, Steve Rogers,” she says. “The only thing that’s ridiculous in any of this is you and the way you think about things.”

“Yeah,” Steve says helplessly, hugging her waist. “That’s pretty much been my life story.”

She pulls back to smile at him. “Which is why you have me,” she tells him. “I’m never wrong. Bucky is in love with you. So just ask him out on a date.”

Steve pictures asking Bucky out on a date and goes even more red than before. Asking women out on dates was challenging enough, asking men out was even harder, and asking your best friend of twenty years who was a man and knew every embarrassing thing about you and who had probably never in a million years pictured going on a date with you until recently and who was infinitely smarter and more charming and better looking was too embarrassing to contemplate.

But contemplating never being with Bucky was a much worse feeling lately.

Steve takes a deep breath. If he can jump out of a building or fling himself off a motorcycle or plan to march into Austria on his own, he can gather enough courage to ask someone he loves to dinner. Steve Rogers is no coward.

“Do they sell leather pants in my size?” he murmurs to himself, still holding on to Nat.

She hugs his neck again, but this time more in concern. “I actually think denim would be fine,” she says.

+

But Steve still hasn’t gathered up the courage by the time Sam hosts his house warming party. He’d moved to New York a month and a half before, but Sam being Sam, he hadn’t been willing to have the party until all the particulars of his decor were perfect. It looks pretty amazing in the end, and Steve looks around in impressed wonder when he shows up an hour late with everyone’s booze orders.

Sam clasps his shoulder and takes the big paper bag out of his arms just in time. Steve’s arms go weak, along with the rest of him, when he sees Bucky across the living room, sitting on the back of the couch. He’s wearing an open dark grey sweater over a pale grey shirt, dark jeans on his hips. His legs go on forever. His hair is back in a messy bun. Eyes so blue blue blue. He looks like the man Steve has known all his life and he doesn’t look a thing like him at all. Steve feels rooted to the spot, helpless to do anything but stare.

Like any half decent spy, Bucky notices his gaze. He looks up from his conversation with a SHIELD agent Steve doesn’t know. His smile is quick and so genuinely bright. He hops off the couch and comes to Steve like he’d completely forgotten he’d been talking to someone at all. 

“Late,” he says teasingly, when he reaches Steve, voice disapproving and low. Bucky’s voice but not in a tone Steve had ever heard before the new century. 

Steve’s hands hate that they’re not touching him, not seeing if that shirt is as soft as it looks, not feeling how warm he is. “No one would believe you if you told ‘em,” he says confidently, making his hands take off his jacket instead.

He’s wearing one of the deep V t-shirts Nat had bullied him into buying. His discomfort feels instantly worth it from the way Bucky’s eyes lower, the way he leans back for a better look. “Who you trying to impress?” he murmurs.

Steve smiles, hands going into his pockets. “Nobody,” he says. “Ain’t got the chest hair for it.”

Bucky laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re a real physical disappointment.”

“I make up for it,” Steve says. He can feel his cheeks heating. His heart comes into his throat. “I’m a good date, a gentleman.”

Bucky’s friendly, amused smile quiets itself into a smirk. He crossed his arms comfortably across his chest. His voice is soft. “Are you?”

Steve hears that it’s a genuine question. It’s entirely possible that Steve had become a good date in the years they had been apart. So much had changed. So much had happened. There’s so much that they still haven’t learned about the other. So much Steve already loved about Bucky and so many new things he’s learning to love more. 

“Do you--” he says breathlessly, but he’s interrupted by Sam coming back.

“Nuh uh,” Sam says, grabbing Bucky by the shoulders and hauling him back. “You two aren’t going to do that thing best buddies do where they socially quarantine themselves together at parties. Mingle or get the hell out.”

Steve’s shoulders fall as quickly as his courage does. It’s only gratifying that Bucky’s eyes stay on him the whole time Sam drags him into the kitchen.

+

Sam allows them within ten feet of each other in a group context. There’s a card game called Wizard being played at the table, which seems fun, only Steve has trouble paying attention to the rules. Bucky is seated across from him and his eyes are steady. There’s never a point where Steve looks up from his cards that Bucky isn’t looking at him. His gaze is warm and intense, his head slightly cocked, and it’s a look Steve had seen him give a hundred times to girls at school or at the dance halls when he wants them to know they have his attention. It drove them crazy. It’s driving Steve crazy. It drives him even more crazy that Bucky is winning the card game and he’s not even paying attention.

Steve gives his cards away to one of Sam’s friends and excuses himself. He climbs the stairs to Sam’s room, slides the door open to the private deck. He leans against the railing, letting the air cool his face. 

Bucky is torturing him on purpose. The door slides open again within two minutes, and Bucky’s heavy signature heavy footfalls are approaching him. He leans close, his arm grazing Steve’s. They both look out at the glinting pool in the yard below.

“You okay?” Bucky asks softly.

“Yeah,” Steve says. His heart is pounding. “Just needed to cool off.”

“You are such a sore loser,” Bucky says, laughter in his voice. He looks at Steve with affection. “Getting all flustered because you suck at Wizard.”

“I’ve always _sucked_ at cards,” Steve says. He’s not as comfortable with modern slang as Bucky is, but he can understand it. Bucky is fluent in everything now. That difference in speech is another thing that’s new, that Steve can’t help but find attractive. “That’s not why I’m out here.”

“No?” Bucky murmurs. 

He leans into Steve. Steve turns his head finally to look at him. Bucky’s giving him that look again, teasing and heated. In 70 years he had somehow become the most beautiful person Steve had ever seen. “Buck,” he whispers, pleading. He wants to kiss him so badly. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good,” Bucky says. He gets up on his toes, brushes his nose against Steve’s. “You deserve it for wearing that damn shirt.”

Steve’s hands go hard to Bucky’s hips. He yanks him up and against him. Bucky’s moan is desperate and wobbly in his throat, and his hands grab on to Steve’s neck, then slide up into his hair. Steve plants kisses on his mouth over and over and over, relentless, barely allowing them to breathe. Bucky’s teeth finally catch in Steve’s bottom lip and tug hard enough to make him stop, if only because he’d gone boneless from the heat running through him.

Steve lets go of his hips to slide his arms around his waist instead, resting their foreheads together. Bucky’s eyes are closed, but his brow is pulled down, like he feels so good he’s almost in pain. Steve didn’t know why he’d ever thought this would be difficult. It’s the easiest thing in the world. Maybe Bucky had been trying to make it easy for him. 

“Bucky,” Steve says, voice rough and breathless. “I wanna date you.”

Bucky smiles like he can’t help it. His eyes are soft when he opens them, the same surprised, touched, happy look as Nat’s. He hugs Steve just as tightly as she did. Steve doesn’t know what it is about him that ex-Soviet assassins like so much. “Steve,” he says, like he’s impressed. “I never thought you’d get the guts to say that to anyone in your life.”

Steve kisses his cheek once, then does it again. “I never did, ‘til now,” he says. 

Bucky swoons in Steve’s arms, making him laugh. “You askin’ me to be your best guy?”

Steve bends him over like they’re on a dance floor, takes his chin and kisses him. “Yep,” he says. “I’m gonna take my man to dinner.”

He knows it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it leaves his lips. Bucky’s hair is in his face, but Steve can still see the embarrassment and anxiety that suddenly crosses it. He straightens Bucky, gently moves his hair from his face so he can see him better. “We don’t gotta do dinner,” Bucky says quietly. “There’s that new movie, with the space princess.”

Steve strokes a thumb over Bucky’s red cheek, wonders at himself. It’s only been thirty seconds and he’s already managed to screw up. How could he have forgotten that Bucky couldn’t go out to eat? His food sensitivities were so severe that it was never worth it. Bucky was on a mostly vegan diet, but even vegan restaurants used ingredients he couldn’t digest. Cooking at home spared him the anxiety.

“Never mind,” Steve says softly. “I’ll cook for you.”

Bucky’s smile is back. He takes Steve’s face in his hands. “You can’t cook,” he says warmly. “I’d rather drink a carton of milk and shit for days straight than risk eating what you put in front of me.”

Steve frowns at him playfully. He’s not that bad. He leans in and kisses Bucky again, gently this time. “I wanna cook for you,” he says softly.

Bucky still looks uncertain but he finally nods, kisses him lightly. “Okay,” he says. “Saturday?”

“Saturday,” Steve agrees.

That’ll give him a week to learn how to cook.

+

Bucky had turned himself into Steve out of medical necessity. He’d been starving. Feeding Bucky had been the responsibility of his handlers for seventy years, and they’d elected for the most part to give him liquid nutrition during mission prep. Once free from Hydra, Bucky had been able to steal food just as he had clothes, but nothing would stay down, not even milk. The only thing Bucky had understood back then was the necessity of surviving. He’d known that if he went to Steve at the very least he wouldn’t let Bucky starve, and he’d thought SHIELD would have the equipment necessary to give him the same liquid nutrition he’d lived off of before. 

Of course, there hadn’t been a SHIELD anymore. But there’d been Steve, and there’d been Stark Industries, and Dr. Banner. Bucky had been hospitalized and assigned a dietitian. He’d been diagnosed with IBD, even though they all knew it was more complicated than that. It was just one of a thousand things Bucky had to struggle to get a hang of.

Steve spends four days pouring over recipes meant for people with IBD. He spends hours in book stores, on the internet. Nothing feels right, no recipe eases his anxiety. Bucky’s sensitivities are so complicated. There’s so many, and sometimes certain foods irritate him and sometimes they don’t, sometimes something will irritate him even though it never has before. Some days Bucky can only stomach oatmeal. Steve wants to give him dinner that’s not going to make him feel sick after. He wants Bucky to be happy, wants him to feel good.

He breaks and calls Dr. Doyle, even though he knows she’s too busy to worry about one client’s date. She might not even be allowed to discuss Bucky with him. He explains his situation quickly, embarrassed, and holds his breath while he waits for her to respond. She’s quiet on the other end for a long time.

“It’s Steve, right?” she says eventually. 

Steve’s heart skips a beat, wondering how she would know that. “Yes,” he says. “Steve Rogers, ma’am.”

There’s another silence. When she responds next, there’s a smile in her voice, even when she sighs. “Steve, why don’t you come in to my office tomorrow morning,” she says. “We’ll work up a plan.”

There are more good people in this world than Steve deserves.

+

They decide on home made pizza with soy cheese and basil. The crust is made with almond flour. Steve can cook, but he can’t cook. He can mash potatoes, and he can fry eggs, and he makes one hell of a bean salad for parties. But home made pizza crust made from strange flours is daunting enough to suggest Bucky’s hesitancy may have been right. 

He calls in the cavalry. 

Steve is so glad that Sam moved closer. Glad for him for his job with the new SHIELD and glad to have him close again. Sam takes him to the Whole Foods Market, helps him pick out the right ingredients. They go back to Steve’s apartment and he goes through the recipe with Steve, step by step. It’s not as hard as he thought. Sam, bless him, makes some special ice cream with coconut milk, bananas and honey, which he says he’s made for Bucky in the past. 

“I’m glad my friends are so dedicated to me getting laid,” Steve murmurs, wiping almond flour out of his hair. 

Sam nods solemnly, putting a hand over his heart. “It’s a patriotic duty,” he says.

At seven, Steve pulls on another deep V and pale jeans, styles his hair as best he knows how. He looks at himself in the mirror and for a moment he sees his old self, small shoulders hunched from pain and lack of confidence. He wishes he had known then to reach out for Bucky. He wishes they both had known they could have loved each other.

Bucky can’t drink wine, so Steve opens some organic apple juice he bought at the store and puts it in the same glasses. He puts Billie Holiday on his record player, because she’d been Bucky’s favourite. He fiddles with his hair in the mirror some more, not quite sure he got it right, and then he starts laughing, because God, he’s fussing over himself for a date with James Buchanan Barnes, of all the ridiculous things that he’d never expected.

Natasha texts him ten minutes to.

**“Cap” it before you tap it! ;)**

Then four minutes to.

**I sacrificed clarity for the sake of the pun - I’m saying wear a condom. ******

Then one minute.

**;)**

 

Bucky shows up at 8 on the dot, wearing his leather jacket. His expression goes slack when he sees Steve, but before Steve can ask, he’s pushing Steve back into the apartment with one hand to his chest. He keeps pushing until Steve topples over the arm of the couch, and then he topples down on top of him, his leather jacket squeaking as he stretches over Steve and kisses him long and deep.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky murmurs between kisses. “You are unbelievable.”

Steve loosens his knees so Bucky can fit more comfortable between them and works at getting Bucky out of that jacket. He smells so good. “Why?”

“I mean you look unbelievable,” Bucky says, sitting up so he can shrug out of the jacket impatiently. He throws himself back down, but he avoids Steve’s lips, dragging his mouth along his neck instead. Steve arches. “You can’t even imagine what I’m thinkin’.”

“Tell me,” Steve says against his ear, hands sliding up his back, the way they’ve been wanting.

They make out hot and heavy for so long that the record ends, and Steve’s lips are swollen. Bucky’s hands are on his belt and Steve laughs, using all his strength to heave Bucky off of him and on to the floor. Bucky sits up, hair a complete mess and eyes hazy, his hands just reaching for Steve’s belt from the ground. 

Steve laughs harder, catching his hands and bringing them up to his lips. Bucky Barnes was always insatiable and the Winter Soldier was always focused on the mission. “I ain’t going anywhere,” he says. “And I ruined eight good shirts sweating over this meal. We best be eating it.”

Bucky sighs, annoyed, but he drops the act when he sees what Steve pulls out of the oven. His mouth drops open, and then he grins, coming closer to the counter to get a closer look. “Wow,” he says quietly. “You made this?”

“Yep,” Steve says proudly, greedily drinking in the surprised happiness on Bucky’s face. “It’s made from almond flour and soy cheese so it’s all stuff you can eat. There’s coconut ice cream for dessert.”

Steve puts the record back on at the start and they sit down at the table. The pizza is pretty good, and they sip their juice but mostly the kiss over the table, and mostly it’s Bucky leaning in. He’s strangely emotional. Maybe it’s not actually so strange. Steve is happy to get as many kisses as Bucky wants to give him.

“I wanna come with you to your next appointment with Dr. Doyle,” Steve says, over the ice cream. “I want her to explain as much as she can to me.”

“Steve,” Bucky says, smiling affectionately at him. “You don’t have to do that. I can cook for myself.”

“I wanna do it,” Steve says, and he kisses Bucky gently on the nose. “I may as well learn. You ain’t getting rid of me now. And you can teach me what recipes you like best. Show me how to make ‘em.”

Bucky is shaking his head slowly. “The man with a plan,” he murmurs. “Okay. I’m actually surprised you didn’t screw this up so I think you earned another shot.”  
Steve leans his elbow on the table. He looks guiltily down at the bowl. “Sam actually made this,” he confesses. 

+

Steve had fallen in love every morning with Bucky as he walked out of Steve’s bedroom, sweatpants low and hair messy.

He wakes up that morning with Bucky right beside him in his bed, eyes sleepy and satisfied, arms stretching up above his head.

Steve had fallen in love every morning before, but that morning he realizes what people meant when they said they had found it. Steve had found it. This was it for him. He wasn’t ever letting go. He was going to grow old cooking and eating things made from soy and almonds and coconut milk and he was going to look into the mirror and laugh with how insanely happy he felt.

Steve tumbles Bucky into the blankets that morning and kisses him until Bucky is restless. He pulls back to look at him. He doesn’t know why he ever thought it would be difficult to ask him for one date. “I am so in love with you,” he whispers, and it’s easy.

**Author's Note:**

> Come be my friend on [tumblr](http://askboo.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
